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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2014-06-19 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | I'd tell you, but I don’t know everything why the old wine goes with rich meals I dig empty pockets dig through poems book only to offer you a smart answer and not snoring while you waiting me. I'd tell you, but I don’t know everything hanging strangers in a strange life the conformations and predictions ghosts and dreams the result is always odd fucking destiny! laugh and look like a eagle as he blows your tired neck and you think you are a hero and he think you are only weird. I'd tell you, but I don’t know everything why the hell rain inside us so slowly and so long and your watery hands are dripping collecting rocks, stones, rocks in your back and you scream like crazy on your empty shore "so , where I been when I don’t know where I am ?" I’ll tell you, we need to swallow the fear altogether with the old wine and then foolish and filled missed out and naked we can look forwards again without desire and our footprints could be a river
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